


Us Against The World

by kierathefangirl



Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Maybe a little smut I don't know, Mentioned Drug Abuse, Multi, Sherlock has a stepfather...he's not so nice, Sherlock has implied previous relationship (discussed), Sherlock's history, mentioned lapse, slow burn Mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierathefangirl/pseuds/kierathefangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There’s a knock on the door, soft and tentative. ‘Sherlock, please. Unlock the door, we need to talk.’"</p><p>~~OR~~</p><p>A story in which Sherlock is cute and John is all supportive. (Mary's non-existent presence is explained.) Mycroft meets Lestrade. Basically a YA romance novel-style fanfiction, I think? I don't read them much. XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John (Sherlock's POV)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trampanya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trampanya/gifts).



> Came to be from listening to "Us Against The World" by Westlife. Not geared towards anyone, really, just lots of fluff.
> 
> First person POVs.
> 
> Comments are highly appreciated. This work is mainly something I just wrote because I wrote it and I liked it. I didn't write to publish. So do let me know if you like it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is drawn out of his room by John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV. Mentioned drug use and previous relationship.

There’s a knock on the door, soft and tentative. “Sherlock, please. Unlock the door, we need to talk.”

I clear my throat, retorting, “You wouldn’t like what you see. What is there to talk about?”

John sighs, thudding against the door. “I don’t care what I see, I need you.”

That’s enough to give me pause. I rise to my feet, making my way towards the door. “Say that again?”

“I. Need. You,” John obliges. “Because I love you. I can’t deny it any longer, it’s true. Please, let me in.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat, peeking out the door. John offers me an exhausted smile. “Hey.”

I slip out, wrapping my coat around myself. “Do you really..?”

John nods slowly. “Yeah, really. Are you okay? Honestly?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I shrug. “No cases in weeks, I’m losing it.”

“How ‘bout we make our own case?”

I blink, closing the door behind me and frowning at him. “What do you mean?”

John rolls his eyes. “You’re not that blind. You wanna...go out somewhere?”

It clicks. “Wait, are you....asking me out on a _date_?”

John blushes scarlet, a small smirk turning his mouth up. “You could call it that, yeah. You got a problem with that?”

I tilt my head. “No. But why...why _me_? You could have anyone you wanted!”

John shrugs. “Could, yeah. That’s the _point_. You’re the only one I want, and it took me so long to figure that out. So you coming or not?”

I study him to make sure he’s not joking before nodding slowly. “Okay?”

John slips his fingers through mine, leading the way. “You’ve been doing drugs again, haven’t you?”

I glance at him, impressed. “You might make a good detective yet. Yeah. Lestrade promised to deliver cases in exchange for me stopping drugs and alcohol and stuff like that. I’m lapsing.”

John tightens his grip. “I’ll fix that.”

I glance at him, letting him lead me blindly. “How? I need something to occupy my brain with, I can’t focus on anything.”

John stops and turns to look me in the eye. “I will find a way, believe me.”

I frown at him, trying to deduce what he means. “What?”

John pulls me down into a kiss, nipping my lip and stealing away my breath. “There are other ways to distract you.”

I shiver, squeezing his hand uncertainly. “Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life.” John’s eyes sparkle with a new love. “Lunch and then home, okay? You can play the violin, I don’t care. I like hearing you play.”

He heads into the building and a waiter guides us to a booth, dropping a bottle of fancy wine on the table and retreating.

John pours the wine, sliding me one. “To us, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for rich or poor.”

I can’t help but smile at that. “Together through it all,” I supply quietly.

John nods and we sip the wine. It’s my favorite and I wonder how he knew.

John’s eyes light up as I smile shyly. “You’re serious about all this?”

John shrugs. “Yeah. You’re okay with it?”

“So far, yes.” I shrug weakly, tapping my toes in my shoes.

The last time I was on a date, I was fourteen and the guy left for some other, lowest-IQ-of-all kind of guy. I feel nearly as vulnerable as I did then, even knowing John wouldn’t do that to me...but I trust John and that makes a noticeable enough difference.

John tilts his head curiously. “So far?”

I close my eyes. “Look, last time I was out with someone...he left for someone else. And I felt exposed and vulnerable. I don’t want to feel like that again.”

John reaches across the table, closing his hand on mine and meeting my eyes. “For one, I’ll do my damndest to make sure that never happens to you again. And two, Sherlock...do you trust me?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

“Then believe me when I say I’ll never do that to you. I couldn’t. Promise.”

I release a shaky breath, peeking at him. His eyes are open wide, nothing there to make me doubt him. “I’ll try.”

John smiles, teasing me with another pop culture reference. “‘Do, or do not. There is no try.’”

I shrug uneasily. “Still don’t get that reference.”

“You will,” John assures me, a small smile quirking his lips. “I’ll show you.”

I flip my hand, closing it on his. _Trust. That’s a new one. I haven’t trusted anyone since I trusted Mycroft to keep a damn secret for once about Mom and Dad and Dad cheating. Siger Holmes, infamous cheater. And my father. I’ll never turn into him. I’ll learn to trust, if it’s the damn last thing I do._

The corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile as he grins, brushing his thumb back and forth over my hand. Tingles run through me and I push away my memories, everything that could ruin the moment. _Just live in the moment,_ I remind myself. _Ignore everything else._

The tiniest of smiles tugs on my lips despite myself, the first time I’ve really smiled like this since long before John—shy but hopeful. _Joshua can stuff it, he’s not famous. I am, and I’ve got a friend that actually cares about me on top of it._

John gives me an answering smile, causing the tiniest shiver to slip down my spine. _Despite my experiences, I can’t help but hope this time’ll be different. Hope beyond hope. I hoped with Joshua, but John is different. We’ve been friends for over three or four years now. Joshua...maybe a year before he left._

I let my usually stiff and formal posture slip, sliding down a little in my seat, my shoulders slumping, almost as if admitting defeat. It’s how I would sit at my parent’s house, if only so my stepfather Michael wouldn’t hit me for being overly formal.

_Is that abuse?_ I find myself wondering for the thousandth time. _Him being so violent? Hitting me, neglecting me when I need someone to be there? Sure, it’s neglect, but...is he actually abusive?_

John squeezes my hand, tilting his head. “You’re silent for once.”

I blink, shaking myself a little. “Just...thinking.”

He asks innocently, “About?”

I wince, dropping my gaze. _I did kinda let myself fall in that trap._ “Um, nothing of importance. Just...well, my stepfather.”

John frowns. “You have a stepfather?”

I take up the subject of my father with ease. “Well, yeah. My father cheated on my mother with the housemaid. I told Mycroft, and he told Mom. They split up, Dad and the housemaid left. Then my mother got a new boyfriend and married him. My stepfather. Mycroft disappeared off to college for most of the year, I was left alone with him a lot of the time.”

John’s eyes widen a little. “Okay, I have a couple questions. One, he _cheated_? Two, Mycroft went to _college_?”

I raise my eyes to just below John’s gaze. “Yeah, he was having an affair. It was obvious to _me_. Left me with a bit of a sore spot _against_ cheaters and _for_ their victims, because it made my mom fall to pieces. But...well, I don’t know what she’d say if she were here. Or my little sister.”

His eyes widen further, sparking as he recognizes I’m actually talking about _myself_ and not others. “You have a sister? Since....since when?”

“Half-sister,” I correct quietly. “My stepfather was her father. Her name was Arianna. She...well, I _had_ a sister. She died of tuberculosis, just like my mother did a couple years after her. Then my dog Redbeard got sick and we had to put him down.”

I shrug casually. “I’ve lost more than I’ve gained. I don’t know how my mom would feel, or my sister. I don’t know how Dad feels because he won’t talk to me. I know how my stepfather feels, and it’s not in my favor.”

John frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘It’s not in your favor’ for what?”

I bite my tongue, wincing. I swallow hard, lowering my voice. “He hates me, to say the least. He talks to me, but it’s always disrespectful. One of his favorite games to play is ‘see how demeaning I can be’. He’s never done it with Mycroft, he loves him. He doesn’t even know how terrible he is to me. He loved Arianna always. He just hated me. I still don’t know why.”

“How terrible is he?”

I drop my gaze again, unable to answer that without lying. _Damn it, John, stop prying._ “I...”

I clear my throat. “I can’t answer that without lying.”

His frown deepens. “Why not?”

I glance at my shaking hands. “Because I’ve already said too much? He told me that he’d kill me if I told anyone. So I haven’t. Not Mycroft, not Lestrade. No one. I don’t want to lie.”

John squeezes my hand, drawing my gaze back to his. “You don’t have to. He’s not here. He can’t hear you.”

I shiver a little. “I just...well, he always said he had eyes everywhere. I don’t trust that I won’t be overheard.”

John glances around. “We could go home. We know that no one there’s a spy.”

A faint smile tugs on my lips. “Mrs. Hudson doesn’t know either. She’s the closest I’ve come to a mother since my mom passed, I don’t want to lie to her.”

“So who _would_ you tell, granted we knew for sure there were no spies?”

I consider it seriously. “Mycroft. He deserves to know, despite our...past together. Lestrade, he’s like a father to me. Mrs. Hudson, she’s like a mother to me. Maybe Molly, but despite being a good friend she isn’t the best at secrets. Maybe Anderson and Donovan. They’ve been pushing me around since grade school. You.”

The faintest of smiles touches his lips. “Me?”

I shrug. “You know far more than anyone knows about me anyway. You’ve gotten the closest and you’re the longest-lasting friend I have. No one’s lasted longer than two years, even if they pity me for one reason or another. Well, excluding Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, with over five years each. Molly’s been two years now, and Anderson just temporarily felt bad over thinking ‘he sent me to my death’, so to speak.”

John shrugs. “Couldn’t Mycroft arrange that? Set up a safe place with literally no one except me, himself, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade?”

I shiver, shrugging faintly. “Maybe. But he’d want to know _why_.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Just put it the right way, like ‘we have to talk about stepfather’, or ‘I need to tell you something about stepfather’. Something like that. Vague but intriguing. Okay?”

I blink slowly. “Are you suggesting _now_?”

John nods. “Yeah.”

“Mycroft’s sure to be busy,” I protest quietly. “And he’ll notice the lapse. He’s smarter even than me.”

John shakes his head. “No excuses, Sherlock. I’m sure he can spare the time, if only because he’s curious and you’re his little brother. I have a sister, I _know_ he can’t deny you if you ask to talk. Just call him and tell him to set up a safe place with no one, not even that girl Anthea, except the people you name.”

I close my eyes, squeezing his hand. “He goes nowhere without backup. Bribes?”

John shakes his head. “Let me talk to him if he says he has to bring anyone.”

I swallow, rising to my feet and pulling John with me. I head outside, making sure the noise of the crowds nearby would deny any eavesdroppers before pulling out my phone, John’s hand still in mine.

I turn it on, selecting Mycroft and hitting _dial._


	2. Stepfather (Sherlock's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock calls Mycroft. Reluctantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV.

The phone rings several times before Mycroft picks up. Surprise in his voice, he asks, “Sherlock?”

I take a deep breath, wasting no time. I could turn back if I did. “We need to talk.”

There’s a second of silence. “About what?”

His voice is automatically softer. I wince. “Stepfather.”

There’s another pause and I close my eyes, tightening my grip on John’s hand. “Why?”

I release a breath, steeling myself. “There’s something you should know. But it has to be a secure place, and there can only be specific people there. He warned me if I told he’d kill me. I don’t want any chances.”

A small rush of wind as he nods. “Who?”

I swallow. “You, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, John, and me. No one else, no exceptions.”

Mycroft sighs. “But what about my guards?”

I shake my head. “No. That’s too high a risk.”

Mycroft sighs again, louder. “But how?”

“He said he had eyes everywhere, I’d rather play it on the safe side.” I shrug. “Besides, no one else should even know you’re there so it wouldn’t matter.”

“Fine,” Mycroft agrees reluctantly. “I’ll swing a car by Baker Street in half an hour to take you there.”

I stall my sigh of relief. “Okay.”

He hangs up and I drop my phone in my pocket, allowing a tiny sigh of relief. _It’s almost over._

John raises an eyebrow. “And?”

I glance at him. “He agreed, reluctantly. Said half an hour, he’ll send a car to Baker Street—in the context, meaning _he’ll_ be driving everyone in a limo, but still better than walking somewhere. Easier to follow on foot than by car.”

John grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I roll my eyes. “Harder than you might think. Come on, let’s go home.”

We slowly wander back home, settling down to wait.


	3. Fancy Limo (John's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The limo shows up and takes them to a cabin. They will talk there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. Mycroft being a show-off.

A sleek black limo, as Sherlock predicts, slides in front of the door. Sherlock rises to his feet reluctantly, following me down the stairs to the car.

We slip in next to Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson slides in on our other side, shutting the door.

Mrs. Hudson shakes her head, nudging Sherlock. “Do you know what all this is about?”

Sherlock winces, averting his gaze. “Yes. You’ll see.”

“Sorry about the lack of servants opening doors, this level of secrecy requires it,” Mycroft calls into the back.

Sherlock blushes scarlet, ducking his head. “I don’t care about that.”

“Secrecy?” Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade ask in synch.

Sherlock’s blush deepens. “Yes, only us five. No one else knows. Security measure. I’ll tell you this: he said he’d kill me if I told anyone, so it’s safer if we’re in a secure location no one else knows about.”

Lestrade frowns. “Who threatened to kill you?”

Sherlock drops his gaze. “I’ll tell you, just not here.”

I lower my voice, murmuring directly in Lestrade’s ear, “Sherlock’s stepfather. Don’t say a word. I’m the one who convinced him to actually tell about it, he still hates the idea.”

Lestrade’s eyes widen but he closes his mouth, settling back. “Okay then.”

Sherlock frowns. “What did you tell him?”

I pull him in to whisper in his ear, “All I said was I convinced you to actually do this so he needs to shut his trap.”

Sherlock’s frown deepens but he stays silent, merely crossing his arms defensively. “You didn’t have to.”

I shrug. “Hey, better safe than sorry.”

The limo pulls up in front of an abandoned cottage. Sherlock rolls his eyes but slides out after Mrs. Hudson, clearly recognizing the place. “Here, really?”

Mycroft shrugs. “It’s not on any map. Safe. Come inside.”

I follow Sherlock out, offering my hand in a show of support. He accepts it, acting like there’s nothing wrong.

Lestrade’s eyes travel down to our intertwined fingers but, to his credit, he says nothing. He just follows me out silently and shuts the door behind him. “So where are we, exactly? And who is he?”

Sherlock glances at Mycroft, whose gaze travels to Lestrade. “Me?”

Lestrade nods. Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Um...”

Lestrade glances at him. “What?”

Sherlock sighs. “This is my older brother, Mycroft. He’s also the British government, when he’s not busy being the secret service or the CIA.”

“No need to be so dramatic,” Mycroft chastises lightly, offering a hand. “Mycroft Holmes, leader of the foreign affairs office—and, as my brother said, secret service and CIA.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lestrade answer politely, accepting the hand and shaking it firmly. “Good to know we still have a competent government system, since the police force are falling apart.”

Mycroft shrugs. “That can be remedied. I can always pull a few strings, talk to the right people. Send you some troops, so to speak. I am powerful enough for that.”

Lestrade smiles faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “No need to show off. Come on.”

He slips inside the cabin, pulling me with him, and naturally everyone follows him in.


	4. Weight of the World Lifted Off My Shoulders (Sherlock's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock explains his history. John proposes. Mycroft is alarmed. Fluff.
> 
> ~~ALSO, LOOK AT THIS CUTE SCENE~~
> 
> " “...I love you, too.”  
> John looks up in surprise before a grin splits across his face. “Awww, Sherlock. You actually said it.” "
> 
> XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV. Lots of fluff.

_I’m glad I only selected a few. It’ll be hard enough to see John and Mycroft reacting to this._

I drop onto the couch, pulling John down with me. He falls next to me, settling down.

Everyone follows us in, taking in their surroundings. Mrs. Hudson huffs. “Could use more than a little dusting, this place. Ratty old thing.”

I snap my fingers and the lights flicker on, dim but alive. “I altered some things. I’ve been here before, but no one’s been here in...what, twenty years?”

Mycroft nods, settling down in his old chair. “Exactly. Fell off the map. No one used it anymore. Perfect hideout.”

Mrs. Hudson settles down on the far end of the love seat and Lestrade takes the other end.

Lestrade casts a glance around. “So why are we here?”

I exchange a quick glance with John. “Because you’re the select few I can trust to keep a secret. A...well, a huge one. I can’t say it’s little. And Mycroft is only here because he’s my brother and he deserves to know, not because I trust him or anything. Just to be clear.”

Mycroft rolls his eyes. “To know what?”

“About our stepfather, brother mine,” I answer softly.

His eyes widen. Lestrade frowns successfully—he could’ve fooled anyone who’s not me or Mycroft. Mrs. Hudson’s eyes widen in surprise. “Your _step_ father, dear?”

I glance at her. “Our father cheated on our mother with the housemaid, I ratted them out. Father was kicked out. Mother remarried, long story short. It hurt her, but she eventually moved on.”

Cold, merciless facts, Mycroft finishes, “Before she died, two years after our little sister, Arianna. Well, half-sister.”

I wince. “You could act like you care. You were crying hard over that, Mycroft.”

“Caring is not an advantage,” Mycroft spits.

John rises to the challenge. “Yes, it is. Caring about your brother, your family, your friends. Gives you something to fight for. _Someone_ to fight for. Like Sherlock. Me, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, you. He cares, whether or not he actually expresses that. He ever explain why he jumped? Snipers on his friends. On us. So you can’t say it’s not an advantage. He used that moment to take down his arch-enemy’s network before returning to stop a bomb. Come on, caring _is_ an advantage.”

“Only for your enemies,” Mycroft counters coldly.

I shake my head. “John’s right. Caring _is_ an advantage, believe it or not. I have friends, _more_ than I have enemies.”

Mycroft’s eyes narrow. “You’ve grown soft. Do you not remember Joshua, brother dear?”

I flinch. “Of course I do. But our history does not define our future. Or at least...it shouldn’t.”

John glances between the two of us before piping up, “He did mention Joshua. Once.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Mycroft spits in a voice dripping venom. John winces, cringing into me.

My eyes narrow. “You can’t exclude others from the conversation. He’s a part of this just as much as you are. Now shut up and listen, or get out.”

Mycroft sinks back, alarmed at my vicious tone. John glances at me in surprise, pride in his eyes.

 _I’ve never stood up to my brother before,_ I realize as Mycroft goes slightly pale. _It...it feels good._

I lace my fingers with John’s, both defiant and seeking the comfort of John’s closeness. He closes his hand easily on mine, sliding closer. He lowers his voice. “Good for you. Thanks.”

I answer in kind, “Thank you for standing up for me. No one’s ever done that before.”

John smiles in acknowledgement and an uneasy silence falls.

Mycroft clears his throat. “...Well, go on then. What’s so important you’re wasting my precious time?”

I shoot him a glare. “You have no room to talk. He never hit you.”

Mycroft’s eyes widen. “Who?”

“Stepfather.”

There’s a shocked silence before John prompts, “He hit you?”

I close my eyes. “Several times. More than I can count.”

Mycroft splutters, “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

I lift my gaze to meet his. “Because, like I said, he threatened to kill me if I told. And I didn’t want him to do the same to you. Despite your numerous flaws, I still cared about you. Because you’re my brother.”

His eyes widen and he falls silent, too shocked to say anything.

I take a deep breath, continuing, “Mom was often gone. Not yet dead, but not really...alive, either. So he was all there was to take care of me. Either he ignored me, neglecting my needs in favour of his own...or he hit me. I asked to be dismissed from the table, I sat wrong, I asked to see Mom—I always had to sneak in to see her—or anything that required talking to him, he hit me. Told me not to waste his precious time. So when I went to school, I had no idea what to expect. I was bullied—naturally, since kids and adults alike fear what they don’t understand—and almost nothing changed. It was the kids my age or older, not my dad, but the same things. Hitting me. Throwing me in trash cans or shoving me in lockers and shutting the door. When they got caught it was worse. It escalated to the point that I couldn’t move an inch afterwards, couldn’t even drag myself back to the dorms. Adults began finding me. Telling them off. I was relieved to finally leave school, but the damage had been done. I didn’t trust anyone, I didn’t have friends. Mom died that year. Arianna was dead. Mycroft was...distant. I was alone.”

There’s a silence. I close my eyes again. “So I started using my skills to solve murders. Not only because it felt good to stop the criminals and get the victims justice, but because the police had never listened to me. Carl Powers’ shoe had poison on it, I told them to investigate and they didn’t. So I took it upon myself to solve cases. Slowly my fame began to spread, the bigger cases came my way. I solved cheaters and stolen money cases. I solved the simple ones until the big ones began coming my way—murders, suicides, robberies. I always kept my distance. No one saw the signs from the drugs until Lestrade came along. Said he’d bring me along on cases if I quit. I agreed, reluctantly. I still kept him at an arm’s length, but he was one of the closest. Mrs. Hudson comes along, brings me a case. Her husband was both physically and verbally abusive and she wanted to ensure his demise. I did, easily. She became close, offered me a place to stay. Then John comes along.”

I open my eyes. John ducks his head, blushing scarlet. “And I cracked your shell.”

“You could say that, yes,” I agree uneasily. “We became flatmates because the flat was expensive for my paygrade. But his experience with Afghanistan provided a useful insight for cases, so I began bringing him along. I relied on him more and more. I began to care. My carefully constructed armor began cracking. The arm’s length became a friendship, my very first. He saved my life and in turn I saved his.”

I pause, reluctant to continue despite my instincts screaming at me to finish. _The fall, tell him about the fall!_

John smiles faintly. “I didn’t know you cared.”

I glance at him. “Of course I do.”

There’s a silence as everyone processes this before I muster my courage, steeling myself to continue. “So, the fall. I didn’t...the plan wasn’t foolproof.”

“As I reminded you several times,” Mycroft adds.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I know. There was always a chance I could die. I had to be ready for that...which was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Moriarty had snipers on Mrs. Hudson, on Lestrade, on John. So I set the wheels in motion and got ready to jump.”

Mrs. Hudson’s eyes widen and so do Lestrade’s. Mycroft’s eyes flick towards them. “I remember you insisting they had to survive the incident. I didn’t know that was why.”

I avoid the curious gazes, continuing, “Over the next two years, I took down Moriarty’s network. Piece by piece. But every day I spent away from my handful of friends took its toll. I...I had a few nightmares, the first since I was five years old. The organizations usually slipped up and didn’t catch me, but one did. Mycroft knows of it. The last link. And so they captured me, and...as those types of places do, naturally, tortured me. It was both worse and not as bad as my stepfather and the kids at school. I’d had both worse and less.”

John squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. “I finally made it back to London. Saved Parliament, once John came back ‘round. Saved John’s life yet again from a bonfire. But I lapsed in that time. After that, I didn’t have another case to slow my mind, to calm my nerves. So...I lapsed.”

“He turned to drugs again, is what he means,” John supplies not-so-helpfully.

Mrs. Hudson gasps. Lestrade’s eyes widen, if possible, even further. Mycroft’s eyes narrow.

I glance at John. “But, as always, John drifted back.”

John smiles faintly. “And drew you out of your cave of a room.”

I shrug. “It’s not a cave, really. More of a den than anything. A place to hide from the world.”

Mycroft’s voice is both softer and sharper as he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me you lapsed?”

“I knew you’d be judgy. You don’t understand emotions and friendship like I do.”

John rolls his eyes. “Just because you’re his brother doesn’t mean he has to tell you everything.”

I shoot John a quick glance. _Standing up for me again._

Mycroft scowls. “Stay out of this.”

“It’s his problem, too, Mycroft.”

Mycroft scoffs. “No, it’s not.”

I glance at John. “Yes it is. He...he’s more than a friend now.”

John grins shyly. “Meaning I told him I love him.”

Mrs. Hudson squeals. “Oh, good for you!”

Lestrade chuckles. “Way to break the low mood.”

Mycroft rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky no Holmes has ever been criticized for batting for the other team.”

John grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “S’pose I am.”

I glance at John curiously, unwilling to ask why he’s acting all mysterious but curious—more than I usually am.

He slides off the couch onto one knee, his fingers slipping from mine as his other hand lifts out of his pocket. A tiny black box in his hand.

My eyes widen as they fall on the box. _Oh. Oh my god._

There’s a shocked silence for a moment before John lifts the lid, stealing my breath away. _It’s perfect. A ruby, a gold band. How could he possibly have known....?_

There’s the tiniest hesitation before John looks up, catching my gaze. “Sherlock, will you marry me?”

I struggle to find my voice for a minute, still in a state of shock before I manage to whisper, “Yes.”

I slide off the couch, my head falling on his shoulder and my arms around him. In the moment, I don’t notice Mycroft’s sound of distress, Lestrade’s gasp, or Mrs. Hudson’s giggle—or at least, it’s just background noise. Any worries I might have had just fall away like raindrops, small and gone in seconds.

John melts to the touch, setting the box on the ground between us and slipping his arms around me.

We stay like that for several minutes before we break apart, if only because Mycroft is clearing his throat.

John slides the ring onto the middle finger of my right hand, the promise finger. We exchange a glance before rising together to our feet.

Mycroft is now standing in the doorway, paler and swinging his umbrella impatiently. “I haven’t got all day, you two. Come along, now.”

“Oh, let them have their moment,” Mrs. Hudson chastises.

Lestrade huffs at Mycroft. “You wouldn’t like it very much if they tried to rush you, later in life. When you’ve found something you want to settle down with.”

Mycroft rolls his eyes. “I never will.”

Despite his declaration, his eyes stray to Lestrade for a moment. I catch the look, the tiniest admiration, before he turns and sweeps dramatically out of the room.

Lestrade rolls his eyes. “Rude.”

I shrug. “That’s how he usually is. But you didn’t catch the look. He likes you.”

Lestrade’s eyes widen. “What?”

“He admired you, just for a moment,” I tell him, my fingers tangled in John’s again.

John raises an eyebrow. “ _Mycroft._ _Admired._ _Lestrade._ Seriously?”

I nod affirmatively. “Yes. I know that look.”

Lestrade shakes his head. “I’m married.”

“And your marriage is crumbling, my dear Lestrade. Your wife cheats on you with someone as stupid as _Anderson_. You oughta be smarter than that. You’d have to be an idiot not to see it. _Observe_ as I do. It’s obvious.”

Lestrade’s eyes widen. “Anderson? Really?”

I shrug casually. “Anderson, yes. There are obvious signs.”

He shakes his head. I swallow. “Don’t ask her. She’ll deny it as everyone does.”

Lestrade tilts his head. “You say that like you _know_. Personal experience kinda know. Someone ever...cheat on you? With someone less intelligent, perhaps?”

I shiver. _He is observing._ “My father denied it wholeheartedly and so did the housemaid. And yes.”

Lestrade frowns and so does John—it’s John who talks first. “Who?”

I glance at him. “Mycroft’s play, with Joshua?”

John nods. “Yeah?”

I shrug. “He cheated on me. With someone even less intelligent than Anderson. He’s trying to warn me it’ll happen again. It only happened once, but as most people do I still crashed and burned. That was the first time I ever did drugs. And of course Mycroft noticed.”

John shakes his head. “I would never. You’re mine and I’m yours, that’s that and no one can come between us.”

“What about Mary?”

John shivers. “You were right. I looked through that USB. She was one of the assassins at the pool, when we first met Jim Moriarty. One of the snipers at the fall—on Lestrade, no less. Her real name is Mary Magnussen. You know, the guy you killed for annoying the hell out of me even though Mycroft told you not to?”

I raise an eyebrow. “She’s _his_ daughter?”

John nods. “Yep.”

Lestrade shakes his head. “She was a nice girl.”

“That’s the side she let you see,” I correct him. “She shot me.”

John glances at me to make sure I’m not joking. “ _What?_ ”

I roll my eyes. “No big deal, I survived.”

“No, it _is_ a big deal. What happened?”

I drop my gaze. “She was going to shoot me in the head, on Moriarty’s orders. Instead, she shot me in the stomach. More painful, more blood, but it takes longer to bleed out. I managed to get to a hospital and heal up in time to get back to Baker Street as if nothing happened.”

John shakes his head. “I’ve come so close to losing you, so many times. I’m not gonna leave you alone ever again.”

“Ever?” I lift an eyebrow in challenge.

John grins, rising to meet the challenge. “Ever.”

I shrug, amused. “You can try.”

We slip outside to see Lestrade, having slipped out while we were chatting, talking to Mycroft. Mrs. Hudson is sitting in the car already, waiting patiently.

We exchange a glance and I shrug. “Told you so.”

John chuckles. “I love you.”

I decide to try to respond in kind, the words still strangers on my tongue. “I love you, too.”

John looks up in surprise before a grin splits across his face. “Awww, Sherlock. You actually said it.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Shut up.”

John’s grin widens and he tightens his grip on my hand, twirling the ring with his fingers. “Okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I toss and turn for several minutes before admitting defeat, reaching for the syringe on the bedside table. But something stops me. John would disapprove."
> 
> ~~OR~~
> 
> Short but cute. Sherlock can't sleep, so he goes to John (instead of the drugs).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV. A lot of this is best from Sherlock's POV. Planning on either Mycroft or Greg's POV for some Mystrade soon.

I toss and turn for several minutes before admitting defeat, reaching for the syringe on the bedside table. But something stops me. _John would disapprove._

I close my eyes, sighing. _Maybe there’s some medical solution?_

My hand falls back to my side. I roll out of bed, not bothering to put a robe on. I still have boxers on, it doesn’t matter all that much.

I haven’t slept in almost four days now. Not because I’m not tired—no, I’m tired as hell. But because I keep tossing and turning and having nightmares. And when I can’t sleep, I just reach for the drugs because I’m too proud to ask John for anything. But I can make an exception. He did propose, after all. He wouldn’t mind.

I brace myself, lifting a hand to knock lightly on his door.

The door pops open in under a minute, John poking his head out. “What?”

I fidget. “Can’t sleep.”

John grabs my arm, pulling me in and shutting the door behind us. “Neither can I.”

I roll my eyes. “I haven’t slept in almost four days, John.”

John’s eyes widen, just a little. “So is that why you lapsed? That and no cases?”

I nod mutely. John sighs. “Sherlock, you need sleep.”

I shake my head. “I’m too restless. Either I’m having nightmares or I can’t get to sleep at all. Longest I slept was two minutes before I woke up again.”

John slips his fingers through mine, dropping his head against my chest. “That’s how it was while you were gone.”

I wince, dropping my head on his. “For both of us.”

John peeks up. “What?”

I shrug. “I didn’t sleep very well. If I did at all. When I did sleep, I just crashed because I’d been awake for a week or more. I’m not used to a huge lack of sleep like that. I’m used to just under a week sometimes, but I lasted a month once. Granted I crashed and slept for three days, but I did. And I only slept a little better when I got back.”

John lifts his head, only a couple inches away. “Sherlock, you could’ve told me.”

I shake my head. “You were furious, understandably. I didn’t say anything.”

John frowns, reaching up to lightly touch my cheek. “Hey, whether or not I’m mad you can ask me for help. I’m a doctor first and hurt friend second. Just because I’m frustrated you didn’t let me in on the loop doesn’t mean I hate you forever. How long has it been since you had a full night’s sleep?”

I think back. “The night before the fall.”

“So almost three years now. Jesus, Sherlock, you could’ve _asked_.”

I drop my gaze. “I tried asking for Mycroft’s help, just once. He just got angry with me and hung up. I haven’t tried since. Not with anyone.”

John sits on the edge of the bed, pulling me down next to him. “I’m not gonna get mad if you ask for help, Sherlock. Mycroft is...well, Mycroft. I think someone hurt him before, which would explain why he always says ‘caring is not an advantage’. I actually would prefer you ask me for help, especially if it’s something I can immediately help with. A case, something you don’t understand, a lack of sleep...you can ask me about anything.”

I keep my gaze down but my eyes flick towards him. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” John squeezes my hand. “I would never get mad if you ask. You’re only human, Sherlock, you can’t take on the world on your own. Together, we can do anything. But we don’t function apart. Your flaws are with the heart and mine are with the mind—psychosomatic—and our strong side is the other’s weakness. We heal one another. We’re the power couple.”

I can’t help but smile a little at that. _Power couple._

There’s a moment of silence before John moves, pushing me onto the bed and falling down next to me, pulling the blanket over us both before turning to face me.

I lace our fingers together, both calm and uncertain. “Power couple?”

John grins. “Yep. Fiancés now.”

I smile shyly back, settling down and closing my eyes. “Strange thought.”

John chuckles. “You’re telling me. You said yes. I cracked your armor.”

“Eh, you’ve been chipping away at it for years. You just finally shattered through it.”

John kisses my forehead and settles down, his arms around me. “Good.”

I sink to sleep, finally tired enough to crash—even though it’s only eight in the evening.


End file.
